Pas De Cheval
by the-academy-isn't
Summary: What if Iggy wasn't the only one who had been blinded? What if, in reality, he was the only one who could actually see things clearly? MULTIPLE PAIRINGS. R&R
1. Iggy

Did your mother ever tell you not to judge a person by their cover? To the naïve kindergartner, sure, thats perfectly fine. Who cares about somebody's face or skin or name?

As you grow, it gets harder. Older people forget what their mothers told them and just run with it. If someone instantly appears, at first glance or word, to be weird or violent, then forget it, there's better people to associate with.

Take the name of a person, to begin with. Like Fang. What kind of a name is that? In the context of a verb or noun, they're the teeth of vampires or wolves or bats. Mythology's vicious creatures of the night, right? Bloodthirsty beings willing to lunge, attack, and sparkle for their prey. You are instantly led to believe that Fang, with such a name, is the same way.

Or how about Max? Maximum Ride. Sometimes, I wonder if she really is. Y'know, the _maximum ride._ Don't tell me that you expected me to talk about names and not bring up the obvious sexual innuendo that comes with hers? I can't see her, and I'm aware of how old that joke is, but I do. I wonder.

I wonder what it would be like to do so much.

Like, what it would be like to be Fang for the few months they were together.

I _long _to find out. Sometimes the feeling just hits me like a freight train in the midwest: fast, hard, and out of nowhere. Sometimes I can go days, even weeks without thinking about her _that_ way. But usually, I'm just minding my own business, when something I think or someone says or does, and BAM. She's in my head again and I don't feel safe thinking around the others, although I'm pretty sure Angel knew how I felt.

But most of it is just wanting to _find out _(although once I know it'll become a drug and I'll need more of her everyday) what it would _feel_ like (not just physically but mentally also) to hear her moaning my name, to feel her soft skin brushing against mine in ways that are entirely new, ways that were previously impossible to imagine. To feel her hands, her face, likely so soft, so lush, probably a smooth pale brown color, accounting for all the sun. Her hair against my cheek and her arms around my neck with my very own arms around her thin waist, with both of our already-rapid hearts beating rapidly in sync, preparing to burst out of our chests. Up in a tree or behind a tent or in a cave. I wonder if Max and Fang ever kissed in the air. Knowing them and their penchant for things like that, probably more than once.

Oh, how I wonder. I wonder so much.

Now, even, flying next to her, the air is tainted, tainted with these thoughts of her breathtaking eyes, her heavy breathing in time with mine, our faces touching, our breath intermingling. Totally intertwined, one single being, we'd be moving together in unison.

_Oh, Max. "Oh, little did she know..."_

Sometimes, I dream of you. _Oh, Max, little do you know..._

But there you go, making do with Dylan while also learning how to make do without Fang. What if you knew that my only attachment to your sister was that she shared your unattainable blood?

(I chose your sister, because it'd be too creepy, even for me, who's sinking this low anyway, to try to seduce your mom.)

Can't you see that when I grow silent, with my eyes closed, and my already pale knuckles losing whatever color they have left I'm not worried about Ella or pissed about Fang, or even fighting back angry screams and yells of denial at Angel's death.

That's actually me mourning. Me mourning you.

Because, Max, you'll always be stuck in this tiny little delusion. A world where everything revolves around you little once-perfect love rectangle: Max Fang Dylan Maya. The others, like me and Gaz and Nudge, we're just little controllable pawns, left to be dealt with later.

This is my mourning for any chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved. Any chance I had to love you, lost the morning you kissed a wounded Fang on an upstate New York beach, a year ago. Lost the morning when you became a person I don't quite remember anymore.

This mourning has yet to end.

I honestly don't know if it ever will.

Little do you know...


	2. Fang

Iggy and I have always had this stalemate. It's been around forever.

You see, he wants my ex-girlfriend. He wanted her when she was my girlfriend. He even wanted her before that.

And the issue here is, I want her too.

But I can't have her because I'm an idiot.

And Iggy can't have her because she doesn't see him that way.

Dylan gets her because he's Dylan and he's magical and he's somehow wormed his way into her heart.

I feel bad for Iggy. After months and months of inwardly hating each other because of our shared feelings for Max, once I've finally given in and screwed up _just effing bad enough_, she's too busy letting Dylan woo her into submission (and when I say submission, I mean an eventual set of little baby Mylan by-products) to even give my brother the time of day.

There's also the fact that I don't like Dylan. As far as new flock members go, I'm not really one to talk, but it's not like Max to just randomly decide to bring someone new in without a full-fledged background/foreground/middleground/underground/aboveground/three-centimeters-to-the-left ground check. She doesn't know everything there is to know about this guy to be able to put him in such a close proximity to the rest of the flock, let alone let him get close to _her_ the way he wants to.

This is why I, Fang, the official ex-boyfriend, totally give Iggy my vote. Even as the sperm donor. I don't care how perfect Dylan is. He was a dick to me, anyway, and Iggy's been through so much more with Max than Dylan has. It just makes more sense.

Well, obviously, if I could go back in time and fix mistakes, _I _would make the most sense, but I can't, so Iggy's the way to go.

Now if only I could just tell Max this. Ich. She'd kill me. I can see it now: "_Innocent Bird Child Murdered By Ravaging Ex-Girlfriend. Motive for Death Unknown."_

The conversation would go like this:

Me: "Hey, Max, got a minute? I have to tell you something about Iggy."

Max: "What?"

Me: "I think you should have sex with him instead of Dylan."

Max: *Stabs me repeatedly*

Like I said, it wouldn't end well.

Still, in all seriousness. I never thought I'd say this, but here I am, the ultimate Fax supporter, pledging my vote for Miggy.

But, hey, anything's better than Mylan.


	3. Ella

***This one was inspired by the fact that my first boyfriend smells like a girl. And when he walks into the room, I effing _know_ he's there cause I can _smell_ him. Ich.***

My relationship with Iggy was always weird.

Sure, I liked him. He was my older sister's brother. An older man, which is what my friends giggled when I described him as my cousin's neighbor.

He was nice to me, when we were in that little courting phase. I would read to him—which he seemed to love, either way—and he would hold my hand and kiss me on the cheek and bury his head into that little crevice between your jaw and your collarbone.

He smelled good, like wind and rain and _boy_, which were all something new: all the boys I had ever been close to (but never exactly as romantic as this, for sure) all smelled like cologne or sweat or in my particularly disastrous first attempt at being a girlfriend, like Victoria's Secret. His hair was light and feathery, which kind of makes sense, him being part bird and all, but it was all new to me, the petty little human.

It wasn't until after Max and Fang broke up and we _really_ got together that I noticed it.

How he was never really into it.

He always broke the kisses off, I always started them. We didn't cuddle; he didn't press me up against him. Hell, Dylan and Max were happier together than we were, and that was when Max was still pretending to _hate_ Dylan.

So I disappeared in hopes of finding someone who could make me better—make me better for Iggy.

Because during that cutesy little courting period, he had picked me up, thrown me over his shoulder, gotten me wrapped around that pale, bony index finger of his.

I, Ella Martinez, loved Iggy, and I knew the score.

He wasn't interested in me because of what I wasn't. I wasn't my sister and that made all the difference. I didn't have tawny brown wings or long blondish hair. I was Mexican from both parents, after all, unlike Max, queen of the world. I had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and a boringly dark complexion. I was younger than he was, younger than Max was, and I had a flat, smooth, wingless back.

During our barely-makeouts, Iggy never knew what to do with his hands. Sometimes he might cup my head up toward his, or put them on my hips (which were wider than Max's), but they were never on my back.

That's how I knew he was settling. Because if he really loved me, he wouldn't hold back like that: he would _act_ like he loved me, _kiss_ like he _wanted_ to, and participate in our conversations like the topic was just absolutely _riveting._ He never did any of that.

He was either with me because I was the closest thing or because he just wanted a girl. And it wasn't the last one, I reasoned, because if that's all it was, (and don't get me wrong, I love Nudge) he could have just gone for the _other _twelve year old, after all, Nudge is probably easier to woo.

No, it had to be because I was close to Max biologically. We have the same mom, and half of me is the same as half as her, I guess.

But he must have gotten bored with the next best thing, eventually. Which is why he stopped acting and kissing and talking like he _loved_ me, dammit.

It's why I'm out to stop being the next best.


	4. Dylan

***Forgive me for this. I feel like we know so little about Dylan that it's hard to determine what is and what isn't OOC.***

Me and Iggy have always been walking on a rocky ground together. And I know exactly why.

He loves Max. Which I have no problem with.

You see, he has no chance.

I was made for her. So I'll have her. Simple.

If you want to know how I can be so sure, think about it.

When I came into the picture, Fang was attached to her hip. Now, he's gone, off making do with some second-rate copy that the incredible incompetent Itexicon manufactured. See what I mean?

Now I have her wrapped around my fingers, and she's recovering from Angel's disappearance and Fang's departure (all for the best, after all) better than she would have with anyone else in my position. She's slowly but surely falling hard for me, and before you know it, her purpose—carrying my spawn—will be fulfilled, and I can lead the new world like they've been telling her she will. It's all part of the plan Jeb and Dr. Hans have been working on for years, and it all comes back to the fact that I'm made for her to be attracted to, and she's made to be compatible with my body, and it's all infallible. Nothing is ever going to stand between me and her, so why should I worry about a mutant who's not as advanced as me who can't even see?

Max is mine. She always has been. Even if he _does_ try and get in the way, it won't work. Even if the others try and get in the way _for_ him, the deal is already sealed. There's nothing anyone can do.

And I'm not all bad, see? I'm resisting the urge to belt out a round of evil laughter.


	5. Gazzy

I've always wanted Iggy to be happy. I mean, who wouldn't want their best friend to be happy? And, it seems when you're a teenager, you need boyfriend or girlfriend to be happy. (I'm looking at the recent trends in _Flock Life Magazine._ There was Max and Fang and Max and Dylan and Fang and Maya and Max and that Sam dude and Iggy wrote an article about how Fang had a girl in Virginia too.) (Yes, I _did_ just make up a magazine for bird children. Deal.)

So, like I said, I want Iggy to be happy. If that means that he has to disappear to lock lips with our leader's sister, then so be it. But ever since Ella went poof into thin air, he's been…different. But not a _sad_ different. It's almost like he's glad to be rid of her. I guess that's kind of mean. I always really liked Ella. She was nice to me, plus she made a mean taco. You can't beat tacos.

Maybe she didn't leave just 'cause she wanted wings. Maybe she left because she wanted Iggy to understand, to come to remember why he liked her in the first place. Like that old saying, you never appreciate what you've got until its already gone.

But, hey, don't ask me. I'm only eight. No sane eight year old knows any good relationship advice.

But then again, who ever said I was sane?


	6. Nudge

I always thought that Iggy and Ella were great together.

You see, I know these things.

They were so adorable at first. You know, everything Max and Fang did, just on a smaller scale. They cuddled and stuff. I loved it. When Max saw them together, she laughed (not one of the most happy sounding laughs in the world), patted my head, and said, "God, Nudge. If they keep this up, you'll have a constant stream of things to giggle about. You'll never get any sleep!"

She was right, too. They did keep it up, for awhile, anyway, and I was always giggling, and I didn't get all that much sleep when they were in the adorablecuteness phase. Best phase of a relationship, ever.

But the one thing that really ate at me in the middle of the night wasn't the way that Ella smiled when Iggy kissed her hair. It was the way Max's laugh sounded. I mean, she was pretty stressed at the time. If the adorablecuteness phase is best, the OMGeffyouICANTBELIEVEYOULEFT phase is beyond worse. She was getting over Fang still, plus the idea of being with Dylan was being shoved down her throat (and down other places, that one time when Jeb and Dr. Hans both visited, if you know what I mean). She was stressed and tired and sick and she probably didn't have the mental capacity for more romance. Even though romance is sooo cute.

I can't help but wonder if maybe it wasn't FangvsDylan angst going on in her head that made her laugh hollow. Maybe it was all jealousy, you know? What if she wanted Iggy too and she was jealous of Ella for getting what she wanted?


	7. Total

I'll admit I was on my honeymoon for a good part of the time Iggy and Ella were together. I didn't see a lot of it. And when I did get back, they were all brainwashed anyway. I can't really narrate on Iggy and Ella because I don't know Ella very well, to be honest. But I do know Iggy. And I do know that something's been up with him for awhile.

I think maybe he was jealous, in a way. Jealous of Fang and Dylan and how they got the girl, for a little while, anyway. Maybe Ella was his way of showing that, hey, Iggy can get a date too!

But that's probably not it. Romance stuff in the flock stopped being that simple a long time ago. The last simple relationship any of us had was Fang with that redhead, and even then, we all know how that went down on Max's side of the court.

I don't think Max ever loved Iggy, really—she was always too preoccupied with Fang or Dylan or with saving the world to see what was _right there in front of her._ . What was so obviously, plainly, _right_ there. Iggy was in love with her—and I knew it. Angel knew it, too, and the two of us used to sit in our room at Anne Walker's place and debate on how we could get them together.

Fang and Max were cute, sure, but the little things Iggy did for Max, like holding the door open or pulling out her chair, things that were hard enough and impractical because of his disability, showed how much he obviously cared.

Maybe they would have been really good together, and none of this would have happened. Fang wouldn't have died for ten minutes, Dylan wouldn't be trying so hard to get Max to love him, and Ella and Dr. M and Jeb might not have disappeared. Maybe Angel wouldn't have died. Maybe Fang wouldn't have left. Maybe everything would be different. Maybe.


	8. Angel

Ich. Romance. Its not even near Valentine's Day, but it everywhere! I've always thought that it's a waste of time, but I'm no teenager, so I _could _be wrong. I _could_ be. I'm probably not, but you never know. First there was Max and Fang, and, as happy as they were together, they kinda screwed up the whole flock dynamic. Max and Dylan was _better_, but that proposition Jeb and Dr. Hans gave was too much, even for me. At that point , I could kind of understand where Max was coming from when she said she didn't want to be told that she loved Dylan.

But Dylan did love her. So did Fang. And so did Iggy.

Iggy loved her in a way that was different from the others. He didn't think about her childbearing abilities or her pros and cons and all that stuff. He didn't think, period. No, there was no _thinking_ involved in Iggy's attraction to Max. He loved everything about her, future mother or not, bad kissing habits or not. She was his future, and he knew it. He knew that he just couldn't be happy without her.

He was kidding himself when he tried to come close with Ella. Ella loved it, and it was kind of nice while it lasted, but once the novelty of a romance with_out_ Max (directly) involved wore off, it was just more drama to work through, more obstacles the flock has to climb. It's like we're all dancers, skipping and hopping and _pas de cheval-_ing around the truth, and then it all comes crashing down in the middle and we realize how stupid it was to try and ignore the problem like it's not even there.

As cheesy as this sounds, there was no thinking, just loving.

Please excuse me while I go try and smother the corniness of that last sentence out of my brain.


	9. Maya

*****Second-to-last go round, people. The same warning applies to this one that applied to chapter three.*****

I don't know the flock all that well. Sure, I did some research on them back when I was training to replace Max, but when that fell through; honestly, I forgot most of what I had learned. I knew their names, and I remembered Angel's damn mind reading abilities and the stupid dog that they thankfully _didn't_ bring to San Diego. If I'm going to tell the truth, I couldn't care less about what happens to them. Sure, they can be useful in the mission, they're all okay fighters, but none of them have interesting personalities. None of them give me any legit reasons to give a damn about what they have to say. Hell, the situation is the same in Fang's flock, too.

So when Star whispered that she thought Iggy might have a thing for Max, I didn't really care. It's not _my_ problem, and it's _definitely _not my area of expertise, even if I _do _have I tiny little crush on after it was brought to my attention, I noticed it. During the various conferences we had with the flock between meeting up with them in San Diego and the finale of the night in Paris, Iggy had always had something prepared to say to defend Max, after the first time when I got pissed on the plane. He was always right next to her, ready to say something in her name, but he never needed to. After Fang yelled at me for the first time (It's not your_ place, _Maya, okay? _Neither of us, especially __**you**__, _have the_ right_ to be that _cruel. To anyone._ If you have a problem with that rule_, __**go**_.) I backed off.

Like I said, I don't know the flock. I don't know how Max's mind works. I don't know how Iggy or Dylan's minds work, either.

But I do know that something was definitely up with Iggy.


	10. Max

*****This is it, everybody. Thank you all so much for sticking around! Enjoy this, and leave a review. I made several allusions to pas de cheval meaning the dance move in this, but this was actually inspired by a Panic at the Disco song of the same name, if you want to check it out.*****

The past year has been so effing confusing.

What was I thinking when I kissed Fang on that beach?

Why is this so complicated? I'm only fifteen.

A fifteen-year-old mutant birdgirl, but fifteen nonetheless.

Some days I feel like I'm more mature, like I can see and understand things better, because of my ordeal with Fang.

Like I can handle impossible situations better because of the pressure Dylan's been putting me under.

Like I can take care of potentially violent conflicts better because I've been working so hard not to kill Maya.

But in reality, now that Angel's dead, Fang and his gang have left, and Ella's disappeared off the face of the earth, I don't know what to do.

There's only four other people left in my flock and I don't know who to ask for help. Because I need help so bad right now. I don't know where to take the flock, I don't even know where to take myself.

It was a late Sunday afternoon. I was tired from being nomadic for two weeks, and so was everyone else. The younger two were asleep, Dylan was at a neighboring town getting food, and Iggy was staring off into space. I was staring at the cell phone, praying that _somebody_—Fang or Dylan or Ella or my mom or even_ Jeb—_would just check in with me so I could stop worrying about them for half a second.

I glanced at Iggy. He had his eyes closed, and his left arm was draped across his knees—God, I just realized how devastatingly _long_ his legs are—with his right arm supporting his head. He looked bad. Tired. Angry. _Sad. _ I know that a lot's happened, between Fang and Angel and Ella, but there had to be something else. Something other than that, that could make him look so painfully miserable. He was falling to pieces, one day at a time, and I was selfish enough not to notice it until now.

"Iggy, what's wrong? There's something wrong, isn't there?" I pleaded, wanting so badly to make up for lost time, to try and fix whatever's wrong with him before I lose him for good. When he left to live with his parents last year, I didn't realize how much it killed me until_ now._

He didn't answer.

"It's not Ella, or Fang, or Angel. That's not why. Tell me why.

I'm not really sure what happened next. My eyes started to water and as I was starting to drop my head into my hands, he leaned forward, with his eyes still closed, and kissed me.

It was totally different.

I know I need to stop comparing the kissing techniques of every guy my lips touch, but bear with me. He didn't slobber, he didn't ask for too much, and he didn't go devastatingly slow.

It was everything, yet at the same time, I felt nothing at all. Like, all my nerves melted away and I couldn't remember how cold my feet were or how gross and unwashed my hair probably was. It was slow and soft and romantic yet fast and unwavering and answering thousands of unanswered questions, questions that I never even asked in the first place. I didn't have to worry about where to put my hands, or how to tilt my head. It just _happened_, and it was magic.

I don't remember who pulled back first. It could have been me, but it was probably him.

"You. You're the problem, Max." He opened his eyes, his blind eyes staring into my seeing ones with an indefinable clarity.

He was crying then, and so was I, and that's how Nudge and Gazzy found us when we woke them up. That's how Dylan found us when he came back from his shopping expedition. That's why nobody picked up the phone when Fang called to fill us in on something he found out.

I knew where I was going. I didn't know where I was taking my flock—minus Dylan, queen of the temper tantrums—but I knew where _I _wanted to be, which is the first step, I think. And know I had Iggy to help me, which I guess is one of the things I've needed all along. I know that Ella's probably going to hate me for a really long time. I haven't solved all my problems yet.

But I'm getting there.

We aren't dancing around anything anymore.

*****One last review! It'd mean the world and then some!*****


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